Warning: Smoking May Promote Social Interaction
by ShiftyGirl
Summary: Smoking on the school roof. So cliche. A story from the POV of a regular, everyday Joe who happens to live in the background of the JoJo universe. A high-schooler in the same year as Jotaro Kujo.
1. Always offer a light to those in need

**My first ever fic. All reviews, comments and gifts of your wisdom are welcomed. Please be gentle!**

* * *

Up on the school roof, having a quick puff. So cliché.

A door bangs and I freeze. _Crap!_

Students are not permitted to be on this particular part of the roof. This dusty, utilitarian but peacefully secluded part that's clearly fenced off: "NO UNAUTHORISED ACCESS".

An unmistakable metallic s _chick_ fills me with relief. It's not the custodian; just another delinquent enjoying a chance to revel in their delinquency. One who seems to have authorised access no less. Red scratches attest to my awkward and unauthorised surmount of barbed-wire topped chain-link; the barrier that separates the wayward from the respectable.

 _Humph._ I tense but remain in place; I was here first, and I don't intend to intrude on others who just want a quiet cigarette. And hopefully, neither do they.

 _Schick. Schick. Chick-chick-chick._

"Che"

 _Heh._ Sounds like they're having trouble with their lighter. I close my eyes, settling back against a protruding ventilation stack. It's warm, its away from (most) people; it's my favourite spot to while away one's tuition.

But suddenly, all is dark. And at least five degrees colder. An interruption.

I squint; peering up. Up, up, and even further up. A dark, imposing figure with studs and chains.

It's that behemoth of a boy…man? Kujo. _Jotaro Kujo_. The scary dude who beats up on other dudes for fun, or so I hear. _Yikes!_

"Oi"

His voice booms like a boulder being pushed down a mountain. Or something like that…

"You have a light?"

I blink blankly. This colossal titan of a teenager, who's reportedly a bit of loner but never really seen alone; he's almost always surrounded by a crowd of admirers. I've never spoken to him before.

My slack-jawed gawping stirs some irritation.

"Tch. If you please"

More boulders rain down from above. Big ones this time. I finally get with it.

"Oh. Yeah, sure"

I paw through my pocket. I know I have two disposables in there; the smaller is pink with Hello Kitty plastered all over it. For some unknown reason I deliberately palm it, and offer it up from my sitting position. It's nowhere near high enough to reach him.

But I remain seated. Again, I'm not entirely sure why.

"Humph"

I'm suddenly aware that a glare can almost cause actual physical harm.

Kujo stoops down, a long way down; his _gakuran_ creaking all the way. _What is that thing even made of?_

Suddenly its now _ten_ degrees colder.

That menacing chain jangles above my head. He deftly plucks at my pink plastic proffering, but it looks so ridiculous in those tough-looking man-hands of his that I cannot help but grin. Stupidly. _Hehe._

He straightens up, creaking all the way. _Schick-chick_. I even hear the soft crackle of a long draw.

Exhaling, he turns away and moves off. _Sunlight at last!_ He tosses my pink lighter back over his shoulder.

"Thanks"

The cheap plastic shatters upon impact: it's fallen in a perfect arc right in front of me. Just ever so short of my comfortably seated position.

Hello Kitty is dead.

 _Tch._ What a rude guy.

I could have reached out for it, but I didn't.

Oh well. The sun is warm today. Satisfied, I settle back into my daydreams.


	2. Do unto others as they do unto you

**Hello again! Second part of my first ever EVER fic. If you're reading this far then that must be a good thing?**

 **Anyway, your reviews and comments are welcome. I hope you enjoy this. At least somewhat.**

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The door to the roof was unlocked so here I am, ditching class again. A quick ciggy before the lunch period; when my fellow students will venture up for a well-deserved break.

Being class time, I'm surely guaranteed to have the place to myself. Saves me the indignity of battling that barbed-wire fence to win a peaceful spot.

I lean out against the chain-link and survey the scholastic scenery below. It's pretty. It's another fuzzy autumn day, and I'm skipping yet another PE lesson. I'm lost in my own stupid daydreams. And I love PE. So why am I ditching? _Baka. Shikkari shite!_

 _Get it together!_

Arrgh I'm so deflated, so unmotivated. Assignments overdue, grades slipping. _Bakayaro._

I take a long pull and exhale mightily; a truly overly-dramatic sigh. Oh well.

I'm the star of my own melodrama. Flouncing away from the fence, I pirouette and chassé my way theatrically towards the stairwell door. Nobody can see me up here; I can be as flair as I like.

 _I've always wanted to be a dancer. A ballet dancer even. Or at least see a proper, live ballet production. Am I too old for lessons? What is the meaning of life? Tra la la la laa…_

I falter mid-step. I'm suddenly, _painfully_ , cognisant of an audience.

Near the stairwell stands a dark, solidly imposing figure with studs and chains.

 _Ugh! Kujo. Broke my lighter._

The inconvenient Kujo is obviously up here on a ciggy break too. Leaning against the wall OH-SO-nonchalantly, with his on-trend loafers and obnoxious abdominals. _Tch!_

I'm going to have to walk right past him if I'm to leave. The embarrassment.

The brim of his sketchy cap is pulled low over his face. _Talk to the hand konoyaro!_ _He probably didn't notice, so probably doesn't care, so why should you? Who cares! Just be swag…erm… unnoticeable, as is your wont._

Pep-talk done, I recover (smoothly of course) and flounce my way to the door, holding my chin in the air as high as I can. Even though it keeps wanting to bury itself under my shirt.

I clench my teeth, steel my gaze and go to swagger past him. _But!_

There's something strange stretching across, blocking my path.

A huge, muscular arm. With a pink, plastic lighter perched deftly on a tough-looking man-hand. _What the…?_

I'm quite slow at processing sometimes; while gawping at the seemingly disembodied hand, I actually catch myself scratching at my head in puzzlement. I think I'm supposed to take this offering?

The arm agitates impatiently, causing a cacophony of creaking. I jump.

 _Ye gods, just kill me now. He fully noticed the whole damn display._

Whatever 'swag' I had just totally evaporated. Resignedly, I pluck the lighter from the hand. I don't dare turn to face him, God no.

The brawny arm drops, permitting me on my way again.

Something to the effect of "thank you" fumbles itself out of my trap. I dip my head in respect and appreciation. Yeah right, mostly in embarrassment.

 _Gah!_ He didn't have to do that. Replace my lighter that is. I was just playing around that time, being a dozy dickhead as usual, and Kujo…well, he's whatever he is. Either way, it was a thoughtful gesture, and completely unexpected.

 _Tch._ What a cool guy.

I slouch down the stairs. "Uuuuwoo, fuck my life" I whinge to the collective universe.

Somebody out there must have heard, because just ever-so-audibly, I hear a chuckle.

"Yare yare…"

* * *

On my way home from school, hooded sweatshirt covering the obvious bits of my school uniform. I fish in my pocket for a lighter for my last ciggy of the day. _I really, like REALLY need to get my shit together…and quit this unproductive habit._

My newly acquired pink disposable has a smudge of red on one side

 _Ack! Is that blood?! Is this thing a MURDER weapon?_

I gingerly hold it up for a closer look, squinting out of one eye. Dramatic as usual.

It's a cute motif. Red cherries.


	3. Nicknames are for Nakama

**Another chapter y'all...**

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Another day, another quick cigarette. Puffing away, contemplating the mystery that is teenage life. Ok, I'll be honest. At this moment I'm fretting over my crush. Who has no idea that I'm alive, and likely has no desire to be troubled by that knowledge. _Sigh…_

Kujo is there, the man-boy muscle mountain being his usual insuperable self. While I'm drifting away as usual.

"Oi"

My eyes uncross themselves and blink in response. I seem to be incapable of actual communication most of the time.

"You don't call me JoJo like the others"

I exhale heavily. My eyes swim from the sheer exertion of being alive. But I politely summon some effort to consider Kujo's remark.

"Mhhmmm"

A long pause. _Hey, I really am trying to think!_

"I didn't know that I should". _Nicknames are for nakama. You're my classmate so you're Kujo._

"Should what"

"Call you JoJo". I yawn for the umpteenth time.

"Hn"

A pause to permit a puff or two.

"Do you want me to call you JoJo?"

He doesn't miss a beat.

"No. I want you to fuck off"

 _Heh. This guy._ A dramatic turn, and I proclaim to him with the utmost sincerity:

"Oh! I confess...that...I love you too… _JoJo_ "

I practically _hear_ the smirk.

"Keh"

Show over, I settle against the comfortable chain-link, let my eyes cross and wait for it. A slight creaking, a gravelly rumble and…

" _Yaaa-re yare daze_ …"

And there it is. I grin out loud.

The gentle afternoon is sliding into a toasty sunset.

JoJo eh? Yeah, he's all right.


	4. A Terrible Panty-Thief

**Chapter 4. Hope y'all like this rambling.**

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" _Naa_ Kujo. What ya thinking about?"

"I like JoJo better"

"OK"

"Hn"

Well. That solves _that_ mystery!

Kujo – sorry, _JoJo_ – is given to looking, well, far away at times. That is, when he's up on the roof having a smoke. It's the only time I see him really.

And it's not like you can ignore a presence such as his. I know I just stare stupidly if he happens to cross my line of vision. It's easy to do. There is a lot of him after all. And I'm an idiot. _Aho!_

He seems to tolerate my gawping. Probably doesn't even notice it. _Why would he?_

The creaking and clanking that constantly accompanies our protagonist makes itself known: Kujo is currently agitated in some way.

I look out across the recreation yard. A red smear catches my eye. It's the new transfer student, a part-foreigner like me. And like Ku- _JoJo_ for that matter.

He's tall and gangly with fabulous reddish hair. His unique hair colour makes him the envy of most of the student body. He has an accent. Apparently he has green eyes. I'd hate to stand out as much as he does, but he sounds like a pretty cool guy. I think he's quite popular already; there's a buzz of activity around him.

JoJo is stalking off, creaking and jangling all the way. So ominous. He'd make a terrible panty-thief in _that_ shifty get-up.

 _Wonder what got up his butt?_ Oh well, I have the place to myself now.

As I watch, the red smear dissolves away.


End file.
